The Healing Touch
by RandomSpeedReader
Summary: When an ATAC agent shows up at the Hardy's with a gunshot wound and supposed sensitive information, they rush her to the hospital, only for her to be declared dead on arrival. Before she succumbs to her injuries, she manages to utter a single sentence - that makes no sense to Frank and Joe. When this is followed by a message from the director of the ATAC... (full summary inside)
1. Prologue

**Summary: **

**When an ATAC agent shows up at the Hardy's with a gunshot wound and supposed sensitive information, they rush her to the hospital, only for her to be declared dead on arrival. Before she succumbs to her injuries, she manages to utter a single sentence - that makes no sense to Frank and Joe. When this is followed by a message from the director of the ATAC, the undercover brothers have no choice but to gear up for their most dangerous mission yet, which forces them to ask: How far are they willing to go for their employers, and for each other?**

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PROLOGUE

She heard the gunshot a millisecond before she felt the bullet tear through her body.

She stumbled, clutching her torso, then kept running. The shooters followed her, squeezing round after round from their automatics, forcing her to zig-zag her way down the desolate street. Surrounded by abandoned buildings and factories, the only light came from the powerful flashlights wielded by her pursuers.

She had to get to the car before they got to her. But she had to tell someone before it was too late. She pulled out her transmitter and pressed in her 4-digit ID. She heard the static, then a cool voice came on. "ATAC Code Red. State your emergency."

"I've been compromised!" She shouted over the noise, as another bullet bit into the asphalt beside her. The blood from the gunshot wound was flowing freely now, and had soaked through her shirt and jacket. The men were starting to catch up to her now. She changed course and ran into an alleyway, heading towards the highway. "I need to talk to Q!"

"I'm sorry, Q is not available."

"What about Penhurst, Barrow, anyone?"

"I'm sorry. We can provide you assistance, though. Please state your location."

"I don't know, um, some place in America! And I already have assistance! _I need to speak to Q!_" she was almost there, but the men behind her were getting closer with every second.

"Your file states that your mission was located in Davenport, Iowa; you're more than a thousand miles east," The voice continued in that infuriatingly calm voice. "Re-enter your 4-digit ID, please."

She almost screamed in frustration. The highway was just a few meters away. She dodged another bullet and increased her pace. "Look, my name is Anna Coleman, I'm 17 years old. I'm an ATAC Class Five Agent and yes, I _was_ sent on a mission to Davenport, but circumstances forced me to fly here. I made an unscheduled landing in some town at 2300 hours last night because I was RUNNING FOR MY LIFE!"

She was on the highway now, and she could see the car, idling at the other side. She dashed across the road, waving frantically at the man in the driver seat. He acknowledged her and threw open the door. She jumped in and yelled, "Step on it!"

With a screeching of tires, he pulled out and sped away in the nick of time. She turned back, spat blood out the window, and spoke calmly into the transmitter, "Look, the bullet probably nicked some major organs. I have super sensitive information regarding the mission, and not much time to pass it on. Do you still want to play games?"

There was a pause. Then the voice came back on, speaking faster. "We are tracking your exact location. I will guide you to the nearest safe house. Do not talk to anyone until you're there."

She placed the transmitter on the dashboard and leaned back, breathing heavily. The adrenaline from the chase had gone, and the pain set in. Her contact drove fast, following the curt and precise instructions of the nameless woman on the other end of the walkie-talkie. He made another turn. The board at the side of the road informed them that they were now entering Bayport.

The bleeding had intensified, and Anna was seeing spots. By the time the woman told them to stop in front of a two-storied blue house, she could barely keep from passing out.

"Thanks," She managed, before tumbling out the car and up the steps to the front door. The car sped away, back where it came from. She took a deep breath to steady herself, then knocked on the door.

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	2. The Safe House

**First off, I want to say thanks to all those who read, reviewed, followed and favorited! **

**Wendylouwho10, centaurdy jackson007, heathledger101 and the beautiful Albany!**

**Also, I forgot to put up a disclaimer at the beginning, so:**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE HARDY BOYS!**

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CHAPTER ONE: THE SAFE HOUSE

Frank was trying to focus on his paper, but it was impossible to do so when his annoying brother was blasting rock music in his room across the hall.

He didn't usually argue with Joe's choice of music, but Frank couldn't even hear himself think. He placed his hands over his ears, trying to concentrate on the computer screen and tune it out, but to no avail.

Then the song ended and blessed silence fell over the house. Frank sighed in relief, and had typed in the heading, "Poverty Fosters Crime", when an equally loud, if not louder, song started up again. Frank inhaled, trying to keep from losing his temper.

"Poverty may not, but irritating younger brothers do," he muttered, pushing his chair back and striding to the door. He swung it open, went to Joe's bedroom door, and banged his fist against it for the tenth time, shouting for him to shut off that god-awful noise. This time, though, Joe answered the door.

The decibel level went up the moment the door opened, making Frank wince. Joe stood there grinning in a ratty old pair of pajamas, a soda in one hand. "What's up, Frank?"

"You know what's 'up', Joe," He seethed, as Bon Scott shrieked at them to 'Let There Be Rock'. "I have to finish a thousand word essay, and if you play one more rock song, so help me god-"

Their mother's voice interrupted his tirade to call them down for dinner. At least, he thought he heard her say 'dinner'.

Frank poked Joe's chest. "I mean it, shut it off."

They bickered all the way downstairs, and Frank would have strangled him right then and there, when someone knocked on the front door.

Joe frowned, puzzled. "Who could it be at this time?"

"I have no idea," Frank said. "I'll get it!" He called out to his mother.

He went over to the front door, Joe trailing behind him, and swung it open, while simultaneously switching on the porch light. He immediately jumped back, startled, when a pale girl covered in blood staggered in, clutching her middle. "I-I have to…uh…record...I have to record a statement," She muttered, placing a hand on the table to steady herself.

Frank just stared at her with his mouth open. The blood kept pouring out of the wound in her torso and was dripping on the floor. Joe swore.

Their mother arrived to greet the visitor, and gasped at the sight.

"Oh my God – Frank! We have to get her to the hospital!"

Frank shook himself mentally. _Hospital._

"Get the keys, Joe." He said curtly, and picked the girl up, careful not to jostle her too much. She groaned, and some blood trickled out of her mouth. "You're going to be okay," He said to her. "We're taking you to the hospital."

"No…no…I have to…information…" Her eyes were now just white slits, and she lay limp in Frank's arms.

"JOE!"

"I got them, I got them! Go, go, go!"

He raced out to their car, Joe speeding ahead of him to hold the car door open. They put her in the backseat, and Joe got in after her, handing his brother the keys.

"I have to keep pressure on the wound," He said by way of explanation.

Frank jumped in the driver's seat and they sped out of the driveway. Joe kept his palms firmly on the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding. The girl tried to lift her head weakly, but fell back into the seat. She kept mumbling something.

Joe leaned in closer. "What is it?"

"Sell…rig-be…be-lev…well…for-for-tee…for tee-six," She whispered.

"What?" Joe leaned in closer.

"Joe, what's wrong?" Frank kept his eyes on the road. They were almost there. He saw a few doctors waiting outside, and waving at them. _Mom must have called and told them we were coming._

"She's trying to say something, I-"

"Listen!" She hissed suddenly. Coughing up more blood, she clutched at his shirt. "Li-life and death…_sell…sell-rig-be…lef-well…for…tee-tee six."_

"Uh.. 'sell rigby left well for tee-six'?" Joe repeated incredulously, but she had lost consciousness.

"Joe, _what _are you talking about?" Frank pulled up at the entrance and the doctors immediately got a stretcher over and helped Joe get the girl out of the car. He kept the pressure on and hurried inside with the doctors. Frank parked in the lot and ran inside, looking for his brother.

* * *

He finally saw him a few minutes later, emerging from a trauma room. His hands were covered in blood, and his shoulders were slumped. Frank looked at him questioningly. Joe shook his head almost imperceptibly. Frank sighed, then, putting his arm around Joe's shoulders, led him to a chair.

They sat there in silence until Chief Ezra Collig walked in and made a beeline toward them. "Boys," He nodded at them.

"Chief," Frank looked up at him. "Did you find out who she was?"

"No," Chief Collig said immediately. "We're sending out her description under a Jane Doe."

"What can we do to help?" He asked.

"It's been a long night," the Chief said. "You should go home, clean up," He eyed Joe, who hadn't bothered to wipe the blood off. "Get some rest."

"We can't go." Joe said suddenly.

"What?"

"We can't go. She was shot. This is attempted –" He winced. "This is murder, and we need to give statements."

The chief suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Look, what's the hurry? We'll get someone to come over and follow up in the morning. Just go home."

Joe looked like he was going to argue, then nodded resignedly. The Hardys made their way out to their car and drove in heavy silence, until Frank asked, "You said she was trying to say something, back there," He shot a glance at Joe. "What was it?"

Joe frowned, then remembered. "Oh yeah," he shuffled around in the glove compartment, pulling out a notepad and a pen. "Um, she said something about life and death, but that's about all I could understand."

"Life and death?" Frank raised his eyebrows. "What did she say exactly?"

Joe scribbled furiously and then held the notepad away, surveying the words. "Yeah, that seems about right. Here goes: 'Listen, this is life and death. Sell rigby left well for tee six.'"

Frank looked at him.

"I know, didn't make sense to me either."

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Chief Collig saw the car pull out of the hospital parking lot and head down the road. As if on cue, his cell phone began to ring. He pulled it out and answered it in a swift stroke. "Yes?…Yes, I'm there…I'm sorry, she didn't make it…I followed your instructions, but they already knew that it was a gunshot wound…yes, of course…I'll see to it...of course, immediately…Yes, sir. Thank you sir."

He slumped down on the chair Joe had vacated, and sighed deeply. He felt drained. The man on the other end of the phone was a very, very powerful man, and he could not afford to piss him off. He was going to do what he was told, and if that meant dumping the body into the bay, then by all means, he would drive out there himself and make sure no one laid eyes on Anna Coleman ever again.

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**The song playing in Joe's room is 'Let There Be Rock' by the awesome ACDC.**

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**Over and out, **

**Random :)**


	3. The Blame Game

**I am soo sorry for the late upload, but I have my boards coming up, and honestly, I probably won't be uploading for a long time. I will, of course try my hardest, but it may take a few weeks.**

**Albany - Thanks for reading! Your encouragement is much appreciated!**

**Guest - I'm glad you liked it! And in answer to your question, they aren't Frank and Joe, they're the main characters of a show called Supernatural.**

**Hibernia12 - Thanks for reading!**

**Xdaisy chainX - Glad this interested you!**

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CHAPTER TWO: THE BLAME GAME

The man who was known to everyone as 'Q' walked down the corridor to the interrogation room. He had devoted his whole life to the ATAC, and had always prided himself on running the organization efficiently. Never had there been any screw ups.

That is, until now.

He pulled open the door to find the woman in question seated on one of the two chairs at the table, with barely-concealed terror on her face. She looked up as he walked in, and stood up immediately.

"Sir," she pleaded. "I had no idea-"

"Shut up and sit down."

She jumped back into her chair and watched him with wide, petrified eyes. Q started pacing the length of the room, taking deep breaths. Her Identification card was laid out on the table, her photograph smiling out at him. Q picked it up, tapping the hard plastic against his palm.

"So, Claire," He said finally, smiling at her. "I read your file. You're a real straight shooter. You've saved the lives of many agents, sometimes helped in the investigations as well, am I right?"

Claire smiled back, uncertainly. "Uh…yes sir, it was just this one time, I-"

"THEN WHY," He bellowed, banging his palms on the table. "DID YOU DO THE ONE THING YOU WERE NOT SUPPOSED TO?"

Claire jumped, eyes filling with tears. "Sir, I had no choice, she was going to die, and she said she had important information-"

"So, why didn't you take a message?" He snarled.

"You had said never to interact about the mission, sir," She sobbed.

"Stop crying!" He yelled, and Claire immediately fell quiet, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

"Look, Claire," Q said, pulling up a chair and sitting down. "That was the house of the only man who cannot, under any circumstances, know about Class Five. He could, and will, shut us down the moment he knows about it. Now, the good news is, he wasn't home at that time. The bad news is, his sons were. And the even worse news?"

Claire looked up at him, blinking furiously.

"We weren't able to get her message before she died of a gunshot wound."

"I-"

"Do you know how long that mission was?" He interrupted. "Four months. Four months of snooping around, gathering intelligence, all gone. _She had the answer, Claire. _She knew what was going on in there. And now she's dead."

Claire kept blinking, too terrified to speak.

"And it's all your fault."

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	4. Right and Wrong

**So, after a few sleepless nights, here is the next chapter! I am _so_ proud of myself. Of, course, there may be a few mistakes, so if you find any, notify me please!**

**Thank you all who read, reviewed, followed and favorited! Enjoy!**

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CHAPTER THREE: RIGHT AND WRONG

Joe Hardy sat at his desk, scribbling furiously. The digital clock beside him showed five am, but sleep evaded him completely. He had gotten home, changed into cleaner clothes, refused dinner and shut himself in his room. There he sat all night, trying to decipher the girl's message.

The floor was littered with pages and pages of words, letters, numbers, co-ordinates, anything that could be linked to those seven words.

_It has to mean something_, Joe thought, balling up yet another sheet of paper and lobbing it at the wall in frustration. _She said it was life and death. It has to mean something._

He took another swig of coffee and began all over again, trying anagrams, word jumbles, letter codes. He threw another ball of paper at the door when it opened, just missing Frank's head.

Frank raised an eyebrow at the mess of papers, and looked up at his brother, concern etched on his face. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Shut the door, Frank." Joe said, turning back to the desk.

Frank made his way through the jumble of clothes and papers over to Joe, who sat hunched over his desk. A half empty flask of coffee was perched precariously at the end of the table. "Joe, you have to eat. Just have some breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," Joe said, and his stomach gave a loud rumble.

"Look, Joe, we all want to find out what happened to that girl, but this isn't the way-"

"No, Frank," Joe snapped, throwing down the pen and standing up. "We _know _what happened to the girl. _She died._ I'm just trying to find out why." He looked up accusingly at his brother. "And apparently, I'm the only one."

Frank sighed. "Alright," He conceded. "How about, you come down and have some breakfast, and then we head down to the police station to find out what they know about her so far, okay?"

Joe glared at Frank for a few seconds, then his shoulders slumped. "Fine. Let's go."

"Whoa, hold on," Frank smiled, giving his brother a playful push. "We're not going anywhere until you brush your teeth."

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Chief Ezra Collig always considered himself to be an honest, upstanding citizen. His duty was to the people, and their safety was his only concern. So why did he feel like he was doing something terribly wrong?

He swiveled away from his desk toward the window. It was only 7 am, and already the citizens of Bayport were on the streets, going to school, to work.

Sighing, he turned back to his desk and shuffled through his papers. Suddenly, a photo of Anna Coleman caught his eye. He stared at it. _She couldn't have been more than 17_, he mused. His eyes flicked to his cell phone, which lay innocently next to the papers.

The man – he hadn't given a name – had called him as he was sitting down to dinner with his wife. They had a strict no-calls-during-dinner rule, but he had picked it up anyway.

_I wish I hadn't_, he thought, lifting up the photo from the pile.

The man had been curt. He informed him of that he was with the authorities, he told him of the situation, and told him exactly what to do. Collig thought to question him; after all, he didn't even know who he was.

But something told him not to, and he was glad he didn't, because seconds later, another phone call from his superior told him who that man was, and he wasted no time grabbing his jacket and dashing to the door, ignoring his wife's questions.

And he did what he was told to.

Then why did he still feel like the bad guy?

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Frank and Joe Hardy, arguing loudly. The man's voice rang in his head, _"Be especially careful of the Hardy's. I understand they have a, um, reputation, for this sort of thing."_

"Dad doesn't have to be bothered about this, Joe." Frank was saying. "He's in London, for god's sake! Do you really think he's going to drop everything just to help us with this?"

"Well, we can at least email him the code, see if he can crack it," Joe suggested.

"Are you sure it was a code?" Frank looked skeptical. "Maybe you just didn't hear her properly."

Joe looked offended. "Look, Frank, if you-"

"Boys, take the fight outside, or I'll be forced to arrest you," Collig interrupted, a grin on his face.

The brothers started, then grinned back. "Sorry, Chief," Frank laughed, grabbing a chair and sitting down. Joe did the same after a moment.

"So, what can I do for ya?" Collig said, lifting up the papers from his desk and stuffing them into the drawer.

"We were wondering if you had anything on the girl from yesterday," Joe asked.

"Oh," Collig hesitated, then told him what he had rehearsed. "We've sent out a description and given a contact number for anyone with information, but you know how these things go."

"What about the body?"

Chief Collig smiled to himself. He had anticipated this, and had prepared an answer. "Our resources were not enough for a post-mortem, so the body has been sent to another hospital. Hopefully, we should have an answer in a few days."

They asked a few more questions, but he managed to evade them all. They finally got up to leave, telling him to keep them informed of any developments. Collig agreed quickly, and they left.

Suddenly, the phone rang, making him jump. He picked it up and answered it.

"_What's the status, Chief?"_

Collig fidgeted nervously with his badge. He told him about the Hardy's visit.

"_You've done well," The man sounded genuinely pleased. "But we'll take it from here. Thanks for your help."_

He hung up, and Collig felt a sense of relief wash over him. He was glad it was finally over.

'Q' was a powerful man, indeed.

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